


A Different Kind of Pride

by sapphirepencil



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Swearing, also theres obv more characters but i just wanted to tag the most impactful ones, i cant think of many tags for this, selim is not pride thats the whole point of this ficccc, sort of??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-18 06:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21506491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirepencil/pseuds/sapphirepencil
Summary: Instead of dying, Maes Hughes serves a different purpose to Father and the Homunculi. He becomes Pride the Arrogant.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [piarata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/piarata/gifts), [(my sister)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=%28my+sister%29).



> Hello! This is based on a theory my sister made when she was watching thru fmab (i had already read and seen it a few times when she was watching it). She was trying to guess who pride was and thought it might have been hughes somehow, which i thought was a super cool concept.  
> Full disclaimer: I dont know if I will write this thing in full. I had a few scenes already and decided to post them to see if people would be interested. Its like a 50% chance I will not finish this lol but I may/may not update it a few more times after this.

He was supposed to have gone home early that night. This had all gone terribly wrong. 

That thing- whatever they were, Maes couldn’t tell- shot him three times somewhere in the stomach. Maes was too weak to move his head to look down at the wounds, he was jammed awkwardly in the corner of the phone booth. His dagger had clattered somewhere to the ground when he’d been shot and he was in no shape to fight. He reached for the phone, maybe he could tell Roy he was dying, but the thing hung it up.

Maes let his hand drop. “I didn’t think the last thing I’d see was a telephone booth,” he mumbled. It was more to himself than anything, but the thing who had shot him looked down at him and grinned. 

“Don’t worry,” they said. Their grin was freakishly wide, completely inhuman. “You have a little longer left. I’ve been told gut wounds take days to kill.”

Then they grabbed his head and slammed it back onto the wall, and his consciousness cut off.

-

Roy had everybody working late that night. They’d missed a lot of paperwork over the past few days with the whole Scar case, and now with transferring to Central it meant there would be much more coming up, so nobody got off early.

Of course, with that weird empty call from Hughes, Roy definitely wasn’t getting anything done. He was just short of calling it off and letting everybody go home, since this wasn’t productive anyways. Breda was even in the process of making a paper airplane that would no doubt end up flying towards Falman. But then they’d have even more paperwork piled up and if Roy got any news about Hughes he’d want to share it with the men. If it were anybody else an empty call wouldn’t have been too out of the ordinary, if not still very strange. But Hughes was meticulous with communication and he never shut up. Roy had an awful feeling about it. And Hawkeye agreed that it seemed off, and her intuition was far stronger than his. 

The phone rang. Roy picked it up before the first ring even finished. “Colonel Mustang from the East,” he said in a heartbeat. “Who is this?”

This is Lieutenant Alicus in Central,” the woman on the other end replied. Roy knew that name, she often called in reports to the east. “I have unfortunate news.”

 _Shit_. “Yes?”

She cleared her throat. “Lieutenant Colonel Hughes is missing in action. Intelligence is suspecting foul play.”

Without even meaning to, Roy jumped to his feet. “What?” His men looked up at him with surprise, Hawkeye looked at him with concern. 

“He was last seen about three hours ago injured and attempting to place a call in the military base,” Alicus explained. “But instead he put the phone down and left the room without calling anybody. He left the building and hasn’t been seen since. Normally we would wait twenty-four hours to declare him missing but there was clearly wrong.”

"He was trying to call me from the outside," Roy said. "But he didn't say anything, I thought I heard a noise, and then it hung up."

"Wait, this might be important. What do you mean?"

This couldn’t be happening. "I'm not sure." Hawkeye was looking at him, thinly worried. "It might have been voices. But I can't confirm that, it was too vague."

"Alright, I'll pass that on."

Roy swallowed, pressing on. “You said he was injured?”

“He was seen bleeding from his shoulder and side, and there was blood on the phone he touched and in the hallway.”

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose. “I want the reports on this as soon as possible. If you can’t get those to me tell somebody who can.” He screwed his eyes shut. “Actually, I intend to go up to Central tomorrow, so get those to me there. Is there any other crucial information?”

“No, sir.” She sounded sad. Maybe she’d worked with Hughes.

“Alright. Signing off.” He put the receiver down before she could respond, and he wanted to scream. Instead, he sat in his seat, put his head in his hands and dug his fingers into his scalp. 

There was a silence in the room, but of course Havoc broke it. “Sir, what’s wrong?” he asked.

Roy sat up, forcing himself to remain composed. “Hughes is missing,” he said, and his voice was steady and calm. “He was last seen three hours ago and injured.”

Breda gasped. “Holy shit.” 

Shaking his head, Falman put down the papers he had been reading. “Think of his wife and his daughter,” he commented. “Poor things.”

“He might not be dead though,” Fuery said, but it sounded more like he was trying to reassure himself than everybody else. “He’s only missing.”

Hawkeye touched Roy lightly on the shoulder. “I’m assuming we’re going to Central tomorrow morning, sir,” she said softly.

Roy took a deep breath and sat normally again. “Yes,” he agreed. If anybody is going to have to tell Elicia and Gracia, it should be me and in person. The men quieted when they saw him sit up again. “Hawkeye and I are going up to Central for the investigation. You know the drill- Havoc’s in charge, stick to desk work and other normal duties unless somebody gives you an order. I don’t know why anybody would, but again, normal routine. I’ll call in about anything important.” He started to pack things away on his desk. “You’re all dismissed now.”

He and Hawkeye waited for everybody else to pack their things and leave before they left as well. They always walked out together when they could, Roy wasn’t sure when it had started but it was their nightly routine.

“You know,” Hawkeye said, looking at the ground as they walked, “this isn’t the first time we thought he might be dead. Like the time that we lost communication with his squad for a week during the war.”

“That’s true.” Roy did know that, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. “But that was before we were both at his wedding and before we had to heard him gush about his daughter for the millionth time. I was expecting things like that in war, but it’s different now.”

Hawkeye hummed and they continued on their walk out. Tomorrow they’d be on the train to Central, and just like now it would be in a comfortable silence.

-

Maes woke up unable to move. He couldn’t see and his head ached with the hit it had taken earlier, and the air was freezing. As he came further to, he realized that he was blindfolded. Apparently he was sitting and bound tightly to some sort of pole or pillar. His stomach didn’t feel any pain at all which was surprising, considering he’d been shot there three times.

“I think he’s up!” a voice called- the voice of the thing that shot him. Their voice echoed in whatever room they were in and they sounded far away. The closer he listened, the more he could hear some sort of mechanical hum in the background of noise.

Footsteps, high heels clacking on stone, grew closer. They came right up to him and stopped beside him. There was a sawing noise, and the pressure on his wrists relaxed, and gave completely. No longer attached to the pillar he struggled to get to his feet, but a cold hand on his shoulder shoved him back down. 

“Now, now,” somebody purred. “If you run, I’d have to stab you. Let’s not get hasty.”

They pulled the blindfold off his face. As his eyes adjusted to the sudden light, the person grabbed him by the back of his collar and forced him to his feet, marching him forwards.

“Your glasses are in your pocket,” his captor told him. Maes reached down to his front pants pocket and found that they were indeed there. He put them on, and he could finally see properly. 

Maes was in a huge chamber. Strange pipes made up the walls and cut all through the floor. Everything was stone or metal, and on the far side of the room the pipes made a tunnel. A way out, he noted. He decided to bide his time. Getting stabbed wouldn’t do him any good. 

What was most interesting was the center of the room. There was a raised dais and on it sat several rudimentary-looking chemistry tools. In the middle of the dais was a chair with several pipes connecting into it. It was turned away from him, but somebody was sitting in it. All Maes could see of them was pale blond hair. 

Two people were sitting on the dais. With disgust, he realized one was the thing that shot him, sitting legs crossed and relaxed. They gave him that freaky grin. The other was almost childlike (Maes hoped Elicia was okay), all round and chubby with two simple white eyes. Maes glanced behind him to figure out who his captor was, only to see the woman who had first attacked him- tall, dark haired, deadly.

“What are you people?” Maes asked, unable to tamp down the growing sense of horror in his chest.

“We’re not people,” the woman behind him replied. She sounded amused, but Maes only started feeling sicker. Something terrible was happening here. 

“You can call me Envy,” the shooter said, pointing at their chest with their thumb. “This is Gluttony-” They pointed at the chubby one. “And that’s Lust.” They pointed at the woman behind Maes.

Lust brought Maes to a halt with a tug on the back of his shirt. “Father,” Lust called. “Didn’t Wrath say he would be here?”

The person sitting in the chair sighed. “He did. But he is late, he leads a busy life.”

Envy snorted, crossing their arms. “He better hurry up. I want to see what’s gonna happen already.”

 _Think, Maes._ What is the easiest way to put distance between you and them? That was the problem, though. He didn’t have his gun nor his dagger. They didn’t leave him bound, but after he saw what Lust could do when she attacked him before, he figured that’s because they didn’t need to. If he made any moves they didn’t like, any of them could probably kill him instantly. 

Not good for him. Not good at all. Time to stall.

“What’s with you all and being named after sins?” he asked. It was the first question that came to mind. 

“You’ll find out in a bit,” Lust said. She sat down next to Gluttony, toying with her long nails. 

Maes forced a humorless smile to come to his face. “That answers nothing. Why am I here?”

None of the three were looking at him anymore. They all were looking over his shoulder at the tunnel-exit, and Maes heard a new pair of footsteps. Why was this chamber so echoey? Where even was he?

“I think you’re about to have a few more questions,” Envy said.

Steeling himself for whatever might be behind him, Maes turned around. Holy shit.

None other than King Bradely nodded at him. “Good morning, Lieutenant,” he said. 

Maes’ first instinct was to salute. Fuck that.

Frantically, he looked over Bradely, trying to figure out some sort of way that it wasn’t him. But it was, it was, his mustache, his eye patch, his uniform- all Bradely. All that he had seen when he came into Ed’s hospital room, to warn their group to stay out of this business. Maybe Maes should have listened. He’d be home right now if he did. 

“Nice seeing you here, Wrath!” Envy greeted him, lounging on the dais. “You ought to visit us more often, it gets lonely now that Greed ditched us and Sloth’s away.”

“You know I’m too busy above ground,” Wrath replied. He greeted Lust and Gluttony, and then turned his eye to the chair. “Father, I have returned.”

“I noticed,” Father (why did they call him that?) said. “Give me time, there are a few more things I must prepare for this Stone. It won’t be much longer.”

Maes felt like the ground had slid out beneath his feet. It all felt like a sick dream, the kind of dream his mind created in the dead of night to punish him, but this was real. He knew it was real. Was he in Hell? He’d long given up on religion, even though he probably belonged in some sort of hell, but this felt otherworldly. Twisted and wicked and wrong. His eyes were deceiving him, maybe (they’d never worked anyways, that’s why he wore glasses). But his head still hurt and he felt the cold air and he heard the mechanical hum and echoing voices. 

Hell it was, then. 

“Bradley,” Maes said, and focused on the sound of the echoes it created to ground him. “Tell me this, did you all try to kill me because I was right? Was what I found what you were warning me and the Elrics and Armstrong about?”

Bradley hummed. “You’re quick, Hughes, quicker than most.” Then he smiled, but it was dry and cold. “But yes, you were right. I’m surprised that it was you who got it, not the alchemists. But I promise that any of them will be dealt with far quicker than you have been.”

Maes didn’t bother asking why. One big human transmutation circle that spanned all of Amestris, coupled with what the Elrics told him about their findings about the Philosopher’s Stone- he could put two and two together. That had been his downfall, probably, how quickly he could connect the dots.

“Now let me ask you something,” Bradley continued. His one eye bored into Maes’s skull, into his brain, maybe into his soul. “You have a reputation among the ranks of being quite proud of your family and your friends among the ranks, no? Especially that Mustang and Hawkeye.”

“Proud?” What did that have to do anything about it? “Well, I-” He gasped, cutting himself off. Wait a second.

Envy, Lust, Gluttony, Wrath, they mentioned a Greed and a Sloth- oh no. Oh no. _Oh no._

He covered his mouth with his hand, feeling like he was going to throw up. Envy laughed.

“He really is quick,” they said. 

Maes eyed the exit. Could he make it? He was decently fast, he’d made sure to keep up his physique since most of his job was desk work (if only to be stronger than Mustang). But then where would he go if he got out? Going home was out of the question, he couldn’t put Gracia or Elicia in danger. Maybe Mustang or Hawkeye would shelter him, but would they believe him that Bradley was involved in anything like this? And Bradley had the whole military and country at his disposal too, which would make hiding pretty damn hard.

Maybe he could just go to Xing. Cross the desert and make a new life there. Or Drachma, if he could make it across the border. But then he’d miss his family and friends too much probably, and end up going back and getting himself killed or captured again. Curse his heart.

“Don’t bother running,” Bradley said (or Wrath). He put his hand on Maes’s shoulder. “You won’t get past my sword.” Also true.

As Maes was debating, Father stood up and turned towards him. “I’m ready,” he said. 

All thoughts of escape vanished from Maes’s mind. There was something about him, like the whole world bent around him. Like it was made for him, like he made it. It was almost like the allure of just standing and watching a crowd go by, like sitting on a park bench on a busy day and people watching, but it was one man and not at all relaxing. Father was tall and old, so pale that his skin and hair was almost white. For a moment Maes thought of somebody he knew, but he couldn’t place who it was that Father resembled.

Envy grabbed Maes by the shoulders as he was frozen with confusion and forced him to kneel. He panicked and tried to struggle back to his feet. That man was inhuman, not of this world, and all of Maes’ primal instincts were screaming at him to run. But Envy held on and with a surprising amount of strength held him down.

The strange beings had gathered by Father’s side now, as Father stood before Maes. Bradley still had his arms folded neatly behind his back, like the military posture was ingrained in him. “Relax,” he told Maes. “It will hurt either way.”

The next few events were even more absurd than the last.

Father opened his forehead- literally. He tapped the skin and something that resembled an eye opened in it, but sideways and eerie and completely grey. Red liquid dripped from the opening, almost like blood, but it seemed to glow. It fell into Father’s outstretched hand and seemed to hold shape, like gelatin. 

A Philosopher's Stone. 

It had to be. Armstrong said the one he and Edward saw was semi-liquid and ruby red. Maes wasn’t an alchemist but he knew with his entire heart that it was. That must have been how they healed his bullet wounds. 

Lust sliced open Maes’s own forehead with her nail. He barely felt the sting of the wound.

Father held the Stone over the cut. “And with this,” he declared, “Pride the Arrogant is born.” He let the Stone fall in, and Maes pitched backwards into the maw of the void.

  
Maes was floating. Distorted faces flew all around him, into him, through him, swirling into a vortex of the damned. Somehow, he knew they were souls, but he wasn’t sure how. Before him in the void was a beast of shadow. One big eye stared at him, like the one on Father’s forehead, but instead of a grey iris it’s was red. Maes’s head hurt again.

“Who are you?” he asked. His voice didn’t carry past his own mouth in the whirlpool, but somehow the beast heard him. 

“I am the Homunculi Pride,” it said, without opening any sort of mouth. “Who are you?”

“Maes Hughes.” This void seemed to stretch on forever, filled with all these horrible cursed souls. 

“I see.” Pride studied him for a moment. “Then you’ll be my host.”

Suddenly, a jaw that was not there before opened and revealed jagged teeth. Maes couldn’t see a throat or any normal anatomy. That’s what it was- Pride looked like it could have been drawn by Elicia. It looked cartoonish.

Pride lunged forwards, jaw unhinged. Maes didn’t have time to get out of the way, finding himself between the rows of teeth in an instant. He grabbed the top jaw and braced his feet on the bottom, in between the teeth, trying to prop the maw open. He couldn’t die here, he couldn’t die yet. The pair struggled, but Pride was winning. Maes’s legs were shaking with the effort of fighting back the beast and he was starting to lose his grip on the top. 

He hoped Gracia would be okay without him. Hopefully Elicia would remember him, but she was so little that she barely would. Maybe he could watch over them from the after, watch her grow, protect them both from danger if he could-

Pride relaxed. Maes realized his internal thoughts had been echoing around the void, not contained within him. Was this vortex inside of him now?

With a toss of its head, Pride spat him out. Maes flew back and stayed floating in the void again, almost one with all of these poor souls. “You’re quite the human,” Pride told him, jaw vanished again. It’s one eye followed his every movement. “Very proud, just like me. I can tell from the way you thought about them.” It sounded amused. “I wonder if you’ll be able to stay apart from all the other souls in here. think you’ll make an excellent host.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy finds the body. Pride is born and finds Hughes difficult to get along with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this at the same time as the first chapter

Pride opened his eyes. 

Several people were standing over him, he counted five. It was bright where he was and the ground was cold, so he sat up. 

“Who are you?” one of the people asked. He was tall, and old, and pale. Pride knew he was the one who created him, but he wasn’t sure how.

“I am Pride, the Arrogant.” He wasn’t sure how he knew this so soundly, but he knew it all the same. He got to his feet. This body was on the taller side as well, his skin looked tanned and smooth. He was wearing a blue uniform, but it was torn in a few places and there was blood around the tears. His head hurt. 

Pride wondered what had happened to his host. He was still there in the back of his mind, he could feel it. But Pride knew nothing about him other than his name and his family. Not that it really mattered. 

The creator nodded. “Good. It worked.”

“That was cool,” another of the people commented. They were small and lean, with spiky black hair and a sharp jaw. “It was funny when he passed out too.”

“I wonder if that’s how I looked when I became Wrath,” somebody else said.

The blond one raised his hand, and everybody else stopped talking. “Allow me to introduce everybody,” he said to Pride. “I am Father, I am the creator of everybody here. That is Envy the Jealous.” He gestured to the short one. “That is Wrath the Furious.” He was an older man, with dark hair that was slicked back and an eye patch over one eye. He wore a similar uniform to Pride. “That is Lust the Lasvicious.” She wore a black dress and had long wavy hair, she smiled at Pride. “And this is Gluttony the Voracious.” Gluttony was fat and round, with a big nose and a wide mouth. He also smiled at Pride, but he seemed almost absent.

“Nice to meet you all,” Pride replied. These people seemed powerful, just by the way they held themselves. Good. 

Envy looked down at the ground and bent over to pick something up. When they stood up again they were holding a pair of glasses in their hands, with a bit of blood on the frames. “I guess you don’t need these anymore,” they said, turning them over. “The Stone must have fixed your bad vision.”

“And all other defects,” Father agreed. He turned around, stepping towards a chair that sat on a dais. “Envy and Lust, help him with what he needs. Wrath, get back to the surface. You have a dead body to plant.”

Envy handed the glasses to Wrath, who pocketed them. They all said their goodbyes, and Wrath started towards the exit. Lust put her hand on Pride’s shoulder. “Now,” she said. “Let’s get you out of that gross military uniform and into some proper clothes.”

-

It had been a day. Roy hadn’t slept a wink. Now he wanted to pass out where he stood, staring down a corpse.

They’d found him in the sewers. Two children had been exploring down there when they happened upon him. It looked like he’d died before his murderers dumped him in there. There were three gunshot wounds in his stomach and he seemed to have been hit on the head. Meaning, there was a bloody dent on the back of his skull. 

He’d been brought back to the surface, just near the closest manhole. Roy and Hawkeye had been alerted and gotten there quickly, to help identify that it was him, even though the soldiers that had initially been called were right. Armstrong had been with them when they got the alert and came with them as well.

Roy almost wished the three of them hadn’t come. But he knew Hughes would have done the same for him, so here Roy was.

Hughes was under a tarp, but Roy had already seen his face. It was ghastly, grey tinted and tight already with a day of rigor mortis. Roy wished he could just look peaceful, like he was sleeping. That’s what people in books always said about the dead. But no, Hughes just looked like he’d been shot and died.

Armstrong was openly weeping. Hawkeye looked stoic, but Roy saw her hands trembling. Roy felt like a typhoon had blasted through him, and now nothing was left but some floods and broken structures.

“I’m going to go question the children,” he said. He sounded fine. He was not fine at all. Where did this voice come out of him?

The children in question were asked to stay on scene by the military, just so that their details could be put on record for the casework. Currently they were sitting on a nearby bench, hugging each other and staring at the ground. Roy knew they hadn’t yet been questioned, because there probably wasn’t much to gain by it. But he had to do something and find a direction to move in or else he'd fall apart.

Hawkeye and Armstrong looked at him with surprise (and maybe a little fear, which Roy thought was unfair).

“Don’t be harsh,” Armstrong warned, still choked up from the tears still flowing down his face. Hawkeye nodded in agreement.

Roy glared at him. “I’m a soldier, I’m not inhumane.” Whether or not that was true didn’t need to be debated right now, so he turned on his heel and left. He walked over to them, a little boy and girl. Either of them couldn’t be more than ten.

He knelt in front of them, so they were closer to eye level. “I am Colonel Roy Mustang,” he told them. He reached out to shake their hands. “Can I ask for your names?”

The little boy was named Teo and the little girl was named Mery. He was right that they were ten. 

“Do you want to sit on the bench?” Mery asked. She was less scared of him than Teo was.

“Sure.” Roy sat on the edge of the bench, to keep a good distance from them and also because he would fall asleep if he sat too comfortably. He looked up at the sky, which was overcast that day. “Hughes was a very good friend of mine.”

“That was his name?” Teo said timidly. 

Roy realized that they hadn’t been told anything about this, then. “Yes. Maes Hughes. He was a Lieutenant Colonel. He was a good friend of mine, so I’d like to ask. Is there anything that stands out to you two about when you found him?” He felt dizzy.

Mery said that he was floating on his back almost completely, which she thought was kind of weird before they fished him out and realized he was dead. Teo said he saw a pair of glasses floating by his shoulder but he couldn’t grab them. But otherwise, they had nothing.

Roy nodded. “Thank you. Another soldier will probably be by to take your names and to contact your parents, so stay here for a bit.” He got up and returned to Hawkeye and Armstrong, the latter of which still crying. 

“Anything important?” Hawkeye asked.

“No,” Roy said. “Nothing that matters.”

Armstrong wiped his eyes. “When will you tell his wife?” 

At that, Roy almost physically recoiled but kept it down to screwing his eyes shut. “I’m not sure. We’ve already confirmed that that’s Hughes and doctors declared him deceased, so I think we’re supposed to do it as soon as possible.” Just saying that took a titanic effort. “I think the protocol is that if nobody does it in a day they send a random soldier, so I’d rather do it myself and alert the military later.”

“If you’d like to go now,” Armstrong said, “I can tell our superiors so it’s out of the way.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

But Hawkeye frowned. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to go now, sir?”

“It will never be a good idea to go tell a woman her husband is dead, Hawkeye,” Roy replied. He put his hands in his pockets and made sure to take a deep breath. “And I imagine in the next few days I’m going to have a phenomenal crash since I haven’t slept in forty-eight hours, so better to go now.” That was true. He didn’t sleep the night they got the news nor the night after. He nodded at Armstrong. “We’ll take leave now.”

As they walked away, Roy was torn between two things. He wanted to go back and stay by Hughes’s side and never leave, and he wanted to get as far away from the corpse and pretend he wasn’t dead. 

Roy was starting to look forwards to crashing from a lack of sleep. And when he woke back up, he knew that he’d be on the war trail immediately. Whoever killed him would be regret it tenfold. 

Gracia opened the door on Roy’s second knock. She gasped at the sight of them, hand covering her mouth, and tears were welling in her eyes. 

“He’s not at the hospital, is he?” she asked, clearly holding back sobs. “They told me I would get a call if he was.”

Roy and Hawkeye must have looked miserable enough to clue her in, and plus death calls were always made in person while hospital calls weren’t, like she said. It occurred to Roy that she must have been clinging to her hopes as hard as she could and he got dizzy again, almost enough that he couldn't conceal it. He really needed to sleep.

“Gracia,” Hawkeye said softly. “I-”

Gracia held up a hand, turning away. “Just come inside.”

This wasn’t even close to the first time Roy had been there. He’d helped the couple move in, and had been over as much as he could to help out when Elicia was born. And there’d been all the nights he’d been over just to hang out with Hughes, to listen to the radio or just shoot the breeze whenever he was up in Central. Roy caught sight of the wedding photos that were always up on the fireplace mantel. He’d been the best man for Hughes. 

That night was so long ago, it felt like, but it was less than five years prior. Hughes had cried so hard during the ceremony that he couldn’t get through a line of his vows without having to stop and sob for a bit. Hawkeye and Roy had both been Hughes’s groomsmen (Hughes insisted on Hawkeye being there despite the name) and Roy got to give the first speech at dinner. And since Gracia was from the North they did some weird northern traditions that left them all in stitches, and the first dance was gorgeous, and it was a beautiful night…

Roy snapped himself out of it. He had to distract himself from those sorts of thoughts or he really might die of grief. 

The three of them sat on the couch. Gracia was silently crying, but seemed to rally and pull herself back together. Roy knew Gracia well. She loved Hughes just as much as he loved her, although she didn’t say it as often, and he hoped she would make it through this. But he had to take it upon himself to say it. 

“Gracia,” he said quietly. “I think you’ve already guessed it, but they found his body today.” Roy didn't want to say his name out loud.

“What happened to him?” she asked. “Do they know yet?”

“The military has very little to go off of,” Roy said. “He was found with three bullet wounds and head trauma, but whoever murdered him dumped him in the sewers so there wasn’t very much evidence.” That sounded terrible. “Otherwise the military knows nothing more than what we knew before, and I don’t really want to repeat those things to you.”

She closed her eyes and nodded. “Alright.”

“We’ll tell you anything we know,” Hawkeye added. “I’m sure he already told you, but we’re being transferred to Central very soon, so we will be able to work on this case.”

The door to the living room opened a crack, and they all turned to look. Elicia padded in, looking concerned. “Mommy?” she said. “What’s wrong?”

Oh, no. 

“Come here, Elicia,” Gracia said. “Come say hi to Uncle Mustang and Aunt Hawkeye.”

Roy was legally Elicia’s godfather, although why Hughes trusted Roy with a child, he didn’t understand. Though he understood why it wasn’t Hawkeye, since Hawkeye did not mix with little kids. But they’d both met Elicia many times, Hughes and Gracia just called them her uncle and aunt. 

Elicia sat in her mom’s lap and turned to the two of them. “Do you know where Daddy is?” she asked, sounding worried. “Mommy said that nobody can find him.”

Roy and Hawkeye said nothing, both looking to Gracia for help. How do you tell a toddler her father is dead?

“You two should get going,” Gracia said. 

“Of course,” Roy agreed, standing up. “I’ll settle the gratuity checks for you, it’ll be quicker if I handle it internally.”

“You would do that for me?”

Roy offered her a smile. “Of course, Gracia. Now take care.”

That was one thing to keep him occupied. He was already making a list of what to do in his mind- get the checks settled, transfer to Central, make whoever killed Hughes pay with their life, and become the Fuhrer. He just had to keep going, get his feet down one after the other. From there, he would make it work. 

-

“ _You look ugly,”_ Hughes said, in the back of Pride’s mind. 

_Shut up_ Pride snapped back.

“ _It’s my own body and you have awful fashion taste. All of you Homunculi do. Would it kill you to add a bit of color to it? I even wore a lot of black and red or purple but this? No.”_

Pride rolled his eyes and stopped listening to his annoying voice. He was starting to regret not just absorbing him to begin with, but he was still a bit curious about the human.

Lust had gotten Pride some clothes so he wouldn’t be stuck in his bloody military uniform. He wasn’t sure where she got them, but they fit in with the theme the rest of the Homunculi were going for- shiny boots, black pants, a dark red shirt, and a black jacket over it. 

“ _You can’t wear skinny jeans on my body,”_ Hughes was complaining. _"I’m a father. You can’t do this to me."_

_Shut up before I absorb you for real this time_ . Pride shook out his legs. _Besides, they’re leather._

“ _Oh my god. I hate you so much. Give me my body back so I can punch Lust for giving me such terrible clothes. My poor image.”_

Pride ignored his petty complaints and looked himself over in the mirror. His oroborous tattoo was smaller compared to the others’, right between his eyebrows above the bridge of his nose. It spoke of power. He liked it. 

“If you ever have to go out in public,” Lust said, “We’ll probably get you a mask or something. Wrath thinks Hughes will make pretty big news, so we don’t want you getting recognized.”

“Good idea.”

Envy was also hanging out with them, lounging against the wall. “You probably won’t have to do much active stuff,” they said. “You have your own crazy powers, Father wants you to keep an eye on the transmutation circle or something. But you might be useful if we ever need to take down Mustang.”

Internally, Hughes scowled. “ _I will never, ever let you lay a finger on Mustang or Hawkeye.”_

_You talk a lot for somebody with no power_. Pride nodded. “For the most part though, what do we do?”

“Keep watch down here, hang around,” Envy answered. “Spar each other if we’re bored. We monitor whoever we think may pose an issue, but that mostly comes from Wrath’s intel or me occasionally spying on them. Otherwise, not much.”

“Nice.” Pride was getting antsy. Hughes was annoying him, but he mostly wanted to try out his new body and see what abilities he had. “Anybody up for a sparring match, then?”

-

Maes knew he didn’t have much power over an entire Philosopher’s Stone. He wasn’t even an alchemist that would have an inkling of an idea of where to start. But he could do what he did best- talk too much. 

Maybe if he annoyed Pride into letting his guard weaken, he could take control back for just a bit. But Maes was not fool. He knew that he couldn’t wrest control permanently. No matter how willful and determined he was, the force of the Stone was far more powerful than him right now. At least, he might be able to land a punch on Lust or kick Envy between the legs.

Also, the leather pants really were abhorrent. They were so uncomfortable (Maes was still privy to his body’s sensations, at least) and they looked so bad. Seriously, Maes was a professional, and twenty-eight years old. Leather pants had no place anywhere near him, ever.

At one point it actually worked, too. A few days after Pride had taken over, Hughes managed it for a tiny second. Hughes had been talking to Pride about something or other while Pride was also talking to Lust. Just for a moment, Hughes found himself able to slip through into control. Properly seeing out of his own eyes now he managed to take two steps towards Lust, and flick the dagger out of his sleeve into his palm. 

But then Pride pressed back against him. It felt like the most explosive sinus headache, pressing through Hughes’s forehead and eyes and nose until Hughes slipped out. 

Lust hadn’t noticed, and Pride was furious that a human could have bested him, if only briefly. But even though Hughes was now back in the void with no control, he had done it. Which meant maybe he could do it again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is all i have prewritten and again idk if i will continue this (if i do chapters will probably be shorter and a little more comprehensive) but do feel free to give feedback on what i have ^_^


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